Not that it is really any of your business... but from the age of 18, I recognized that my young boyfriends were simply not suitable lovers unless I painstakingly instructed them in the art of pleasing a woman. Their fumbling in those early days was simply not acceptable to me, a young woman who had always guiltlessly relished the feel of my own hands across my smooth skin and between my silken thighs. I was quite disappointed that other young men did not measure up to the exacting standard I had set for my own pleasure. Rather than settling for less, I began, very early on, to instruct my lovers, to insist upon being pleased, to tell them exactly what I wanted. A few complied to the best of their (extremely limited) ability, but were ultimately put off and made insecure by my insistence on running the show in bed.

I soon grew tired of their whining and tactlessness and vowed to be unattainable to males unless they were willing and eager to follow my direction. In college, I found exactly what I had been missing—in other women. I luxuriated in the attentions of college coeds exploring their nascent lesbianism, and found my female lovers to be a dramatic improvement over the sloppy groping of young males. I could lose myself in a woman's flesh and scent, finding peace at last with those sensual beings who are truly my equals. The desire to play with men never fully went away, however, and one evening I learned exactly what use I could make of males.

I had befriended an assistant professor at my college (I was 20 at the time, she was 33), and we frequently went out to local bars and clubs to dance, often flirting with each other (and teasing onlookers) as we moved our bodies in sensual rhythm on the dance floor. Paula and I became quite close, and during one of our long conversations at one particularly upscale jazz club, I asked her about her experiences with men (and whether they had been as wholly disappointing as mine). She laughed and said, "Olivia my dear, men will never be as suitable lovers as women are... but they DO have their uses." I leaned forward, intrigued. She abruptly suggested that we coax home a particularly attractive specimen, indicating with a tilt of her head a young businessman sipping brandy at the other side of the bar, promising that she would show me exactly what she meant.

I was fascinated, and I immediately agreed. It didn't take much to seduce the distinguished young man whose name I never learned, because as soon as we got him back to Paula's place (where he obviously thought he was about to become the lucky 3rd in a threesome), she firmly took over. Standing before him in her tight leather skirt and white blouse that perfectly displayed her generous cleavage, she told him that we were in charge of everything that would happen, and she'd make him regret it if he was rude or disobedient to either of us. Then, to drive her point home, she swung open a closet door to reveal a rather extensive collection of all matters of discipline. Leather restraints, hoods, harnesses, and dozens of whips, canes, and paddles! (I admit, my jaw fell open along with his!) I recognized the heavy leather crops I used to carry in my competitive horseback riding days; I could already imagine the firm leather smacking in my hand... and then upon the young man's firm ass. I instantly felt my cunt grow warm, and moisten—I felt a new heat emanating from every nerve in my body. I pressed my thighs together, and a low hungry breath escaped my lips.

With a wicked grin, Paula said to our captee: "You've now seen that I am serious. I suggest you get down on your knees and thank us both for the opportunity to be our plaything tonight." I thought the young man might burst out laughing, or call us pushy bitches (as one of my early boyfriends had done). But Paula's instincts about him were quite correct, and he hit the floor as though we'd kicked his knees. He proceeded to kiss our feet, beseeching us to use him and let him please us in any way. Seeing him below me, running his lips over the smooth, finely kept leather of my stylish knee-high boots (and gently caressing the well-pedicured toes beneath) gave me an indescribable erotic thrill! My cunt swelled with slickness and throbbed for attention. I could not wait any longer. I grabbed him by his hair and sharply shoved him backward onto his ass. Holding his short hair in one fist, I yanked up my skirt with the other and leaned forward until my hot, soaked black satin panties were a mere inch before his face. He gasped and moaned as my scent and the sight of my body so suddenly overtook him. Feeling a surge of power, I shoved his face right into my wet panties and ground my hips tightly against his face, rubbing my hard clit firm and fast against his nose, mouth, and chin, muffling his moans and probably limiting his breath. But I was past caring. I rode his face to a fast, explosive orgasm that caused my thighs to clench tightly around his whole head. I cried out in delight and grabbed Paula for a deep kiss, thanking her silently for this wonderful gift. When at last I calmed, I stepped away from the panting boy, his face soaked with my sweet juice, and stepped into Paula's closet to select a whip from the wall.

From that day forward, I sought out solely those males who would serve me in the way I treasure most. Creative, loyal sluts with a deep-seated need to serve a woman of distinction—namely, a sly beauty who happens to possess a mischievous streak, a devious imagination, and a wicked sense of humor. As I am now out of college and working professionally in my field, I satisfy my control cravings on the phone with worthy submissives. If you please me highly, I may reward you with the same treatment I gave to that lucky first man—but don't count on it until you have proved yourself. Heavy breathers, clueless wankers, and stubborn fools need not apply. Be prepared to answer my probing questions if you hope ever to be probed anywhere else!